


Post-Meeting Meeting

by PreposterousGreen



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blindfolds, Bureaucracy, Creampie, Enthusiastic Consent, Gabriel Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Gangbang, Humor, Insults, Kink Negotiation, Marathon Sex, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Multiple Sex Positions, Non-Human Genitalia, Oral Sex, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Kissing, Slime, Vaginal Sex, Xenophilia, Ze/Zir Pronouns for Beelzebub (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:41:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27943199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PreposterousGreen/pseuds/PreposterousGreen
Summary: The pre-meeting meeting is mind-numbing. The meeting itself isn't much better.The post-meeting meeting, on the other hand....
Relationships: Beelzebub/Gabriel (Good Omens), Gabriel (Good Omens)/Original Character(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 19
Collections: All Gifts Left In A Server For More Than A Fortnight





	Post-Meeting Meeting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [paintpot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/paintpot/gifts).



> Special thank you to Langerhan for organizing this exchange and for providing feedback! (Any remaining mistakes are my own.)

Gabriel could tell that nobody else was paying attention to the presentation, including, somehow, the angel who was giving it. The demons present were openly fiddling with their phones or tablets, while the angels were at least doodling in the guise of taking notes. Since the last break, both groups had been eyeing the plates of donuts on the sideboard; the angels, again, were surreptitious about it while the demons made no such pretense. Meanwhile, the presenter had skipped something important seven or eight clipart-laden slides back and didn't seem to realize that the notes she was reciting tonelessly neither corresponded with what was on the screen nor made much sense without whatever key bullet points had fallen by the wayside.

It was likely that Gabriel was the only one who had spotted the error.

The whole meeting really ought to have been an email, anyway, which was not something that Gabriel typically admitted, even to himself. He made a show of turning the page of his notebook, even though it was blank, to disguise the motion of tugging up his sleeve to see his new Breguet. Fifteen more minutes. He did a double take. Hadn't there been ten minutes left, five minutes ago when he checked it last?

Gabriel failed to stifle a sigh, but was saved from his _faux pas_ by Beelzebub, who chose just that moment to stand up, causing zir chair to emit a hideous metallic screech as it rolled away from the conference table. The noise drew the attention of everyone present, including the angel presenting. Gabriel glanced at her, only to find her snatching the opportunity to click furiously through most of the rest of her slides while nobody was looking.

He decided to pretend he hadn't seen.

Beelzebub, meanwhile, had frozen under the sudden attention. "What?" ze said, sounding almost sheepish. "I'm just getting a donut."

Gabriel cleared his throat in what he hoped was a decisive manner. "It looks like we're running out of time anyway," he said. "Forfax, I do apologize, but—"

"Not at all, sir. I was just wrapping up," Forfax lied gratefully. "Unless there are any questions?"

Gabriel looked around the conference table. There were a lot of very straight faces there, and not a single hand so much as twitched. "Well, if anyone thinks of anything," Forfax rushed to say, "just drop me an email. I'll be making my slides available—"

She didn't seem particularly put out as her words were lost in the general rush to the sideboard. Gabriel was gratified to see Beelzebub having to hasten, looking slightly annoyed, to arrive at the donut platters before they were picked clean by the Heavenly Host and the Hordes of Hell alike—at least, two small but nevertheless rapacious parts of them. Gabriel closed his notebook, sat back in his chair, and smiled to himself—the only one left at the table. These days, it seemed he the last hold-out on the topic of consuming gross matter—even if his hold, so to speak, was weakening.

A few minutes later, he felt a shower of crumbs skitter down his collar and glanced up. Beelzebub was leaning against the table with zir back angled toward him, dangling a half-eaten donut from the hand closest to him and cradling a stack of three more in the other. Ze was looking pointedly anywhere but at Gabriel, but there was a distinct upward crook to the side of zir mouth.

"Are we still on for the thing?" Gabriel muttered quietly, trying to brush the crumbs from his neck and succeeding only in shaking them further down the back of his shirt.

Beelzebub's mouth was too stuffed with chocolate-frosted to reply verbally, but ze nodded once, sharply, then moved away.

Gabriel had to think the tamest of thoughts for a few moments to stave off his corporation's immediate reaction, which was to blush furiously, and its slightly delayed reaction, which didn't bear mentioning even in the privacy of his own head. The thing! It was finally happening! He patted the front of his suit jacket to make sure the USB drive was still there.

The thrum of conversation as the meeting broke up suddenly seemed unnaturally loud. Ordinarily, Gabriel would have stood up to take charge of the ethereal contingent. They were used to this habit of his, and as he remained seated, they began to mill about in mild perplexity. By contrast, the infernal set were perfectly accustomed to doing whatever they felt like whatever their Prince said or did—most had disobedience quotas to fulfill—so most had scuttled for their exit as soon as they had claimed their unfair share of the fried dough.

Gabriel guessed that none of them were going to be involved in The Thing, or, if they were, they'd been told to wait in the hallway until the angels had decamped. _No,_ Gabriel thought with profound self-satisfaction, _they will have been told to_ lurk _in the hallway._

Out of sheer desperation, the angels began to take their own initiative and leave.

Soon, the room was nearly empty. Beelzebub had taken up the table edge again, and there were still two very large demons loitering about. Gabriel would have said they were Beez' bodyguards, except the Prince only ever bothered for ceremonial occasions. Michael, too, lingered near the door on the angels' side of the conference room. She was staring sternly at Beelzebub's enforcers, but the effect was somewhat spoiled by the dribble of half-melted pink frosting on her chin and lapel.

"Michael, you can go on back to the office," Gabriel said firmly. "I've still got a few things to follow up on with zir Lowness."

Michael smiled a knife-edge smile, ever-vigilant. "I can stay. My schedule is clear for the rest of the afternoon."

Gabriel tried not to wince. He opened his mouth, wholly unprepared to produce a convincing argument—maybe he could throw her off her guard by pointing out the frosting?—but was saved when Michael's phone buzzed loudly from her pocket.

She retrieved it and thumbed the screen to life. Then Gabriel looked on with some consternation as her face underwent a remarkable sequence of color changes and expressions.

"Ha," she squeaked. "I've got to take this—sorry—see you later, Gabes!" She was already halfway out the door before she managed to finish and, on top of that, whiffed her attempt to shut it behind her, so that they heard her footsteps—and profanities—all the way to the elevator.

"...She never manages to hit notes that high in choir practice," Gabriel muttered. "Told her not to call me that..."

Beelzebub stared after the Archangel. "I didn't know angels could turn such colours," ze marveled, then shrugged. "Nice timing, Ligur—I guess."

Gabriel turned to zir. "Ligur?" _Isn't that guy dead?_ , he thought. _Like,_ dead _-dead?_

"And/or that dreary swine Hastur." Beelzebub shrugged again and said, opaquely and astringently, "Not my circus, not my clowns."

There was a weighted pause.

Beelzebub strolled over to shut the door. Ze turned back towards Gabriel, a wicked grin on zir face, and spun the lock with a flourish.

He gulped.

Suddenly, he found the two enforcer demons beside him, one at each elbow. He had it on good authority that Beelzebub's personal detail were mostly a bunch of sweeties once you got to know them, but for the purpose of today's scenario he was entirely willing to take their appearance and demeanor at face value.

"Hey, guys," he said shakily, glancing at each. "How's it going? I hope you found the meeting reasonably informative?"

The enforcer on the left scoffed and seized Gabriel's arm with his hands, which were normal apart from the fact that there were four of them. The one on the right rolled her eyes and coiled appendages that were very much not normal, apart from the fact that there were two of them, around Gabriel's other arm. 

Left jeered, “You of all beings should know better—" 

And Right finished with a savage flourish, "—It really ought to have been an email!"

They picked him up by the arms, shoved him forward over the conference table, and kicked his feet out from under him, pinning his torso forcibly to the surface. He heard his chair hit the floor with a clatter, and then one of the enforcers, probably Right, neatly whipped a blindfold over his eyes.

"Oof," Gabriel said mildly. "Thanks for the feedback, guys." Mildly; yet his pulse was racing in a way it never did in Heaven and had been for some time. A potent mixture of anticipation and anxiety had been brewing in him for days, and now he couldn't stop squirming fruitlessly under the implacable grip of the two enforcers.

Other demons were filing in now, many with heavy booted footfalls and others making less identifiable noises. Beelzebub took the seat next to where Gabriel was bent over the table and began to boot up a laptop whose startup jingle had been replaced with a tinny recording of sinister laughter. Ze began to tap zir fingers on the table.

"Talk amongst yourselves," ze said to the room at large. Knowing Hell-issued computers, it would be a while before the laptop heaved itself out from under its compulsory burden of malware. To Gabriel, ze sneered, "Have you done your paperwork?"

Gabriel swallowed. "In my breast pocket."

Right Demon's weird limbs retrieved the USB drive, though not without making a thoroughly unnecessary investigation of Gabriel's torso along the way. Then Gabriel heard noises that suggested, gratifyingly, that demons couldn't manage to insert a USB in the right direction on the first try (or second) any more than angels could. Yet another of Her little jokes, no doubt.

"Let's see what we have here," Beelzebub said finally. Ze sounded genuinely curious, and Gabriel flushed deeply, remembering the comprehensive and color-coded spreadsheet that he had filled out in preparation for today. It had infected his computer with at least two Trojans and one rootkit, but he would have been more suspicious if a macro-enabled Excel file from Hell had been clean.

Much of the top third of the spreadsheet pertained to purely mechanical acts in exhausting specificity: which Tab A he would or would not enjoy inserting or having inserted into which Slot B and similar. These Beelzebub scrolled past quickly; all of the answers were "yes," after all. The middle third was where it got interesting, and the final third—well, some of _that_ Gabriel had clicked "No" on without even reading it to the end, let alone looking at the attached helpful illustrations and videos. The idea of shrinking down to a sixth his height and allowing Beelzebub to use him as a, well, a _toy_ was an oddly compelling one. But not today—the logistics of The Thing were already tricky enough—and if he did it, it would be with _only_ Beelzebub.

Beelzebub had begun instructing the unseen crowd of demons. Gabriel realized he ought to have been listening in to ensure that nothing from his spreadsheet was omitted. But to be honest, if he had been filling it out in the state he was in now, he probably would have just autofilled "yes" to everything. Since they were on Earth, it wasn't like he couldn't miracle his way out of it whenever he wanted to.

But that, as Beelzebub had all-too-reasonably pointed out, would just kill the fun dead.

"All right, powder puff, I've got the preliminaries out of the way," Beelzebub was suddenly murmuring in his ear. "Are you ready?"

"Yes," Gabriel squeaked.

"Don't tell me," ze said derisively, "tell _them_!"

He told them.

"Louder, wankwings!" one jeered.

He told them louder.

"Still can't hear you," another sing-songed.

He pressed his lips together, inhaled through his nose, and bellowed, "Yes!" as loudly as he could without damaging his corporation's vocal cords.

All that got him was a, "'Yes' what, featherhead?"

At this, Gabriel quailed. He realized what they wanted, but it was still so hard to say things like... like...

Fine. Whatever. He roared, "Goddammit, just fuck me already!"

The demons let out a ragged, raucous cheer. Then their hands and other appendages were on him, yanking and scratching at his clothing and groping between his thighs. A squabble broke out over who would get to annihilate his suit trousers, which was only resolved when Beelzebub elbowed zir way brutally through the scrum and fended everyone off long enough to cut a neat slit from back to front through the fabric.

"Clothing is to be dismantled _gradually_ , you useless muppets!" ze howled like a veteran worksite foreman. "Otherwise what's the point of having him show up in it in the first place?"

There was something faulty about this logic, but Gabriel was beyond identifying it. He shuddered at the feeling of air slipping through the gap in the fine wool.

"Hang on," one demon called in a voice that pierced through the boisterousness, "what's that? That wasn't on the work order, was it?"

The mass of demons paused in their scuffling, and Gabriel heard them collectively leaning in to gawk. He groaned. If his hands had been free, he would have buried his face in them.

Beelzebub tugged aside the split sides of the seat of his trousers and burst out in astonished but clearly delighted laughter. Gabriel could only imagine the expression on zir face. "Fucking heaven, angel!" ze crowed. Then, to the gang, ze said, "Have a look at this, boys, girls, and neither! He's brought us a little surprise!"

In such a way that Gabriel alone could hear, ze said incredulously, "Have you even used one of these before?"

For a second Gabriel thought ze was referring to the bright purple satin undergarment, which the humans called by a word whose sound and mouthfeel he found distressing and tried to avoid thinking, let alone saying. But it had to be the other thing, the body part that the garment covered—barely.

"I took it for a spin on my own, as practice," Gabriel muttered back, to Beelzebub alone. He had also read the manual, although it was heavy on anatomical specifications and safety warnings and stingy with other kinds of advice. The forty-page glossary of alternative terminology, the vast majority of it intolerable, was also unhelpful. "I thought it seemed appropriate for the occasion."

"More holes to fill up, eh?" Beelzebub said, this time addressing both Gabriel and the demons. "Seems he's tested it out first, too!"

This elicited another coarse round of cheering, and Gabriel frowned—not because he objected to their hooting and hollering and clattering of mandibles but because, well, he had _said_ he was _ready_. Beelzebub seemed to sense his impatience and clapped zir hands together.

"Enough jostling, you bone-idle perverts; you'll all get your turn!" ze said. "Here, you go first!"

Beelzebub yanked the lucky demon forward with such force that Gabriel felt the demon's body colliding with his lower half and nearly falling over on top of him. The demon regained their balance and seized Gabriel's hips, grinding a clothed erection greedily against his partly-clad backside. He couldn't help but squirm just as eagerly into the touch.

"What a slut!" the demon said approvingly, only making Gabriel wriggle all the more shamelessly under their grip.

Finally, taloned fingers slipped underneath the edge of his purple underwear and tugged the glossy fabric away from his already-heated skin. Apparently taking Beelzebub's admonishment to heart, the demon merely pulled the gusset aside rather than ripping it apart. There was a chorus of unexpectedly sincere oohs and ahhs from Hell's contingent as Gabriel's goodies were revealed, and Gabriel flushed all the way down to his chest. He almost didn't hear the sound of a zipper opening. Then the demon firmly wedged apart Gabriel's thighs, positioned what felt like a standard-issue cock at their apex, and began to work its blunt tip back and forth along the seam of his plump labia.

"Is he already wet?" someone called.

"Oh, yeah," the demon groaned, pressing their cock in more firmly so that its full length parted Gabriel's folds. The elastic of the underwear began to dig into Gabriel's hip, forming a taut line running across his groin. "Just soaked. Surprised these knickers weren't drenched, to be honest."

Gabriel's heart skipped a beat as the demon began to swirl their cockhead around just inside his hole. He pulled in a shuddery breath, ready to have it punched back out of him in a pitiless single thrust. But the demon pushed in slowly, which was almost worse because it gave Gabriel time to really, properly _feel_ every unyielding fraction of an inch as it stretched open his nearly-virgin pussy.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck," he gabbled helplessly.

"Fantastic view," someone said, sounding incongruously urbane. She was much closer to Gabriel's ear than the rest—one of Beelzebub's enforcers, still pinning Gabriel's arm to the table and forgotten amidst the rest. "His cunt's sucking down that cock like it's starved for it."

"So tight," the demon fucking Gabriel moaned appreciatively as they bottomed out inside him. " _So_ hot and tight, oh Satan!"

Gabriel bit off a moan of his own as the cock immediately began to slide in and out, with aching slowness at first but rapidly building to a pounding rhythm that began to drag more and more gasps and grunts from both Gabriel and his partner.

"I'm not gonna last long," the demon muttered. "Fuck, I'm—" They shuddered and thrust savagely into Gabriel's cunt a few more times, wildly off rhythm, and then Gabriel felt the hot, thick spill of infernal seed pulsing deep inside him.

The crew cheered, but Gabriel barely heard over the rush of blood in his ears as he came shortly after, pushed over the edge by the demon's blunt fingers toying with his clit as a—well, any demon worth their stench would object strenuously to calling it a polite send-off, but what else could it be?

Gabriel wilted on the table panting heavily. The first demon—the first of many—slipped away, but not before giving him what couldn't possibly have been a cordial pat on the side. He must have been imagining it. Demons wouldn't be caught _dead_.

Meanwhile, Beelzebub was barking, "All right you lot, settle down. Who wants to go next? It's you! Step up, mate."

Someone with a distinct lack of self-preservation instinct complained, "What's the point in asking if you're just going to pick—"

"Enough of your impudence; back of the queue!" Beelzebub shrieked.

"...Just tryin' to meet my quota, boss," the same demon said with diffident reproach.

"Well, fine, stay where you're at," the Prince relented. "But don't even think about jumping in front!"

Gabriel mumbled to his enforcer, "Is there really a queue?"

"Nah, man. Just a figure of speech," said the enforcer. "You ready for your next go?"

Gabriel blinked under his blindfold, startled to be asked. "Uh, sure," he said. "Kinda figured you guys'd just have at it, actually."

"Oh, really?" the enforcer said curiously. "Wasn't on my work order. The dispatcher demons must've got their docket in a disarray again, the daft sods. That department's really gone downhill since what's-his-name dipped out. One of these days they're going to make a bad mistake, you mark my words."

Gabriel didn't have time to think about the implications of this, for there was another sinister presence squaring up to his rear. In short order, Gabriel felt something snipping through what remained of the seat of his trousers and his belt. Whatever it was had to be alarmingly sharp, for it went through the leather intrecciato as neatly as if it were paper. Flimsy appendages plucked at the sides of his underwear and with unnerving delicacy slid the garment down his hips. The elastic caught on his thighs and stayed there; the same could not be said for his trousers, which drooped pathetically to below Gabriel's knees.

"You gonna do his cunt this round, or try out that arse?" the other enforcer asked.

"Yes," the new demon said blandly. The enforcers both chortled, then one whistled, apparently impressed by the equipment the new demon had revealed.

Four or five fat tendrils, some smooth and others blobby, landed on Gabriel's buttocks with a single wet plop and began to squidge around the surface of his skin of their own accord. While the demon herself radiated heat, her appendages were cold and clammy, and Gabriel couldn't help but eep a bit as gooseflesh broke out all up and down his body.

"Now we're getting somewhere!" someone in the crowd whooped.

"Dick worm, dick worm, dick worm!" someone else tried to get a chant going, but none of the rest took her up on it.

Gabriel shuddered, mainly at the phrase but also thanks to the fact that the dic—nope, he definitely wasn't going to call them that, not for a whole damned wardrobe in vicuña wool, not even in his own head—the _appendages_ were nudging at both of his holes at once.

The demon had used neither fingers nor infernal miracle to prepare his ass, but it was immediately clear to Gabriel that neither would be necessary. The tendrils were pliable, squashy, and generated plenty of their own ooze to slick even the tight, untouched pucker of his asshole, never mind his newly-fucked pussy. Its passage no doubt facilitated by the previous demon's copious spend, the rippling appendage managed to plumb the full depths of Gabriel's cunt without its owner moving her hips an inch. It felt good, Gabriel thought, but also really weird—the unmoving hips in particular.

Well, that _was_ what he had signed on the dotted line and sigiled several individual pages for.

The one hole taken care of, the demon addressed herself properly to the task of desecrating Gabriel's ass. Her appendage waggled back and forth for a moment, dribbling ooze around the outside of his hole and forcing it in ahead of itself. After tugging at his rim for a few moments, it finally pushed in.

Gabriel tried his best not to shove himself back on it as it squidged into him. Judging from the wolf whistles and mockery from the demons, however, he wasn't successful. He blushed, not for the first or the last time, which brought down more cheeky applause.

"I take it you're liking this so far," came Beelzebub's wry voice in Gabriel's ear; not from across the room or using a miracle to convey the sound as before but close enough that zir breath tickled his skin.

"Yeah, yeah," Gabriel panted in response, "T-tease all you want."

"I will!" Beelzebub replied, more joyfully than was strictly called for.

Meanwhile, heartened by Gabriel's evident enthusiasm, the demon's appendages were picking up pace as they thrust squashily in and out of his cunt and ass, at first in time with each other and then breaking rhythm to work in counterpoint. The noises they made on and in his body—never mind the sensations—were simply obscene. He would have felt gloriously filthy just listening.

This time, Gabriel didn't need a finger on his clit to tip him over into orgasm, and this time, the orgasm was shockingly more intense. The demon's appendages fucked him through it, but either way he was all but vibrating on the table, his hips and thighs jerking uncontrollably at the tides of pleasure washing over him. As if from a distance, he could hear himself groaning and his audience, Beelzebub's voice prominent among them, murmuring appreciatively—right up until they began to grow impatient with the current demon's progress.

"Taking your sweet time, eh!" someone called in an accent Gabriel couldn't place.

"Oh, shove off," Gabriel's partner gasped, sounding understandably distracted. "The Prince said everyone'll get their turn!"

At any rate, the mushy appendages were moving faster and faster inside of Gabriel, and it wasn't long before the demon came so copiously that Gabriel felt like he was being blown up like a balloon. As the appendages slopped out of Gabriel's body, they were followed by a slick flood that coated his thighs and soaked his wrecked trousers and socks.

"What a mess!" someone whooped.

"Not so buttoned up, now, is he?"

"Like being all mucky, do you?"

Gabriel moved his head vaguely, more out of discomfort at the condensation his breath had left on the polished tabletop, but Beelzebub's voice was in his ear again.

"Do you, then?" ze said.

"Do I what?"

"Like being all mucky?"

Gabriel considered. Wet socks were never very nice, but as he put his knees together and twisted through his limited range of motion, he found that the splattery sensation was far more erotic than he had imagined, and he had imagined a lot. "Well," he said, feigning nonchalance, "I could get used to it."

Beelzebub clapped him on the shoulder. "Sounds like a challenge to me, my feathery frie—fucktoy," ze said. Then ze hauled the next demon to the forefront.

The next demon applied what felt like octopus’ arms to his body. They twined around his thighs and tugged at his hips with their stiff suckers, pulling off just to make popping noises and no doubt leave marks on his carefully-maintained skin. Everywhere they went, after a few minutes Gabriel felt his pores prickle under drying salt water. The tentacles penetrated him almost as an afterthought, their rows of suckers dragging at the faintly stinging rims of his holes at every thrust.

Thinking himself between demons, Gabriel managed to kick off his shoes. The leather was probably a lost cause, but they would have to remain basically functional until he got back to his nest; he couldn't imagine riding the elevator barefoot.

When the enforcers hauled him upright and slewed him around so that he was facing everyone a second later, trousers around his ankles, he couldn't help but gasp, "What, that's it?"

This provoked uproarious laughter.

"Demanding slut!" someone called.

"Can't get enough of our cocks!"

"Figure we could get him to beg?"

"He's going to need two each, isn't he? Hope someone brought caffeine pills!"

"Or the other kind of pills!"

Gabriel blushed and ducked his head, though he only vaguely registered the allusion.

"Don't worry, mate, s'far from over," one of the enforcers gently corrected him. "Only, the rules say you gotta change positions after four."

"Rules?" Gabriel mumbled.

The other enforcer began to chime in but was almost immediately interrupted by a spate of derision from all sides. The only thing Gabriel heard was the phrase "amended ergonomics guidelines."

"Tedious loon! Don't _bloody_ get her started!" Beelzebub hissed fervently. "The point is, we're moving you whether you like it or not."

But Gabriel did like it. Gabriel liked it a lot, in fact, as the enforcers shuffled him over to a wall and pinned his back and shoulders to it. He especially liked it when the next demon cut through the last scrap of wool keeping the sides of his trousers together, hooked his knees with two hands, hoisted his legs up and apart, and stuffed a ribbed and rigid shaft all the way into his dripping cunt without the slightest hesitation.

This round of four went by quickly. The first one popped every single button off his shirt opening it—God only knew what happened to his poor tie—and every subsequent demon had a go at his neck, collarbone, navel, and nipples, either with their tongues or tongue-like parts or with their teeth. Gabriel tensed up with each nip and graze, but to a demon they respected the spreadsheet, where he had ticked off "no" under the subheading "Breaking of skin." Still, he was glad to be blindfolded and unable to _see_ any of the (no doubt alarming) dentition involved.

The second demon squashed Gabriel hard against the wall, chest-on-chest and using some handhold above for leverage in hammering his cock hard and fast into Gabriel's swollen cunt. Unexpectedly, this worked for Gabriel—as did the brutal, open-mouthed kiss that the demon forced on him as he shot off inside, shuddering and growling like a wild animal. It was the first time any of the demons had kissed him, and it was a doozy—tongues that long or girthy were _not_ standard issue.

"Fuck, oh wow, fuck," Gabriel burbled. "I mean—I could've done without—the garlic breath, but—"

One of the enforcers—Gabriel was beginning to think of them as his chaperones at this point—tutted. "Garlic breath is an infraction apart from at dinner orgies. And that knucklehead's on his second warning."

"Oh," Gabriel said. "I shouldn't have mentioned it—I'm not here to get anyone in trouble."

Then the next demon was on him and he said nothing more—nothing coherent certainly—for a while.

The round finished off with a demon on her knees between Gabriel's legs. She wielded another stout and skillful tongue, but also steaming hot exhalations that would have left Gabriel's inner thighs and groin ruddy and damp if they hadn't already been. Now, to his chagrin, Gabriel found _himself_ hitting high notes that he never managed in choir practice as the demon lapped at him, tongue-fucked him, and twiddled his clit through his most intense peak yet.

When his chaperones released his arms, he pitched forward onto his hands and knees in a blissful, lightheaded haze. As he dropped, his chaperones shucked him adroitly of his suit jacket. He became aware that there would be little break in the action this time: demons were already chivvying him away from the wall for easier access and squaring up to him fore and aft. Someone shoved a mat under his knees and finally— _finally_ —unburdened him of his drenched socks.

"Are you sure we can't persuade you to take a drink of water?" one of his chaperones said, apparently forewarned of his preference. "I really do advise it."

He shook his head. Still, it did sound tempting.

Beelzebub stepped in on the conversation, saying, "Suit yourself, you pigheaded tit."

A cock(-like appendage) pushed into Gabriel's ass, which nobody had touched since the first round but was still wet and open. Then a spindly hand combed through Gabriel's hair, grasped it, and jerked his head up.

He felt blunt, hot flesh swabbing his lips and, without being asked or pressed, he opened up. The demon gave a dry rasping chuckle. Judging from the lack of catcalls, however, none of the rest saw. Perhaps they were too busy watching the demon in the back pistoning relentlessly into him.

"You're awfully eager for a harp-humper, aren't you?" the demon in front said, just to him. "Not that I'm complaining, but..."

"Anything worth doing is worth doing properly," Gabriel said, then winced behind his blindfold in faint embarrassment. The motto sounded much sillier punctuated by the lewd slapping of skin on sweaty skin. He recovered enough to make a joke. "Anyway, that's _Archangel_ Harp-Humper to the likes of you."

"Yeah, all right," the demon scoffed, "now how about you use that mouth for something that isn't absolute nonsense?" For good measure, she scuffed him on the head.

Whimsically, Gabriel opened up again, stuck out his tongue, and said "ahh." It earned him another scuff, and then the demon fed him her cock. It slid over his tongue, glass-smooth and heavier than ordinary flesh had any right to be, and stretched his lips wide before it nudged into his throat. Briefly, she crushed his head to her groin, where the hairs were surprisingly soft against his nose. After a few unhurried thrusts, she began to fuck his mouth like the professional that she clearly was.

At first, he tried to keep up. Quickly, though, he realized that his efforts were counterproductive. So instead, he just let it happen—let the dense member push into his cheeks and gullet; the viscous saliva slop down his chin; the choked, wet gurgles spill from his throat. 

His back was bowing under the onslaught.

The demon defiling his ass finished first, gushing so much syrupy slime inside Gabriel that it would have filled up his guts if he had thought to manifest any. Gabriel groaned around the cock in his mouth and writhed as infernal come permeated the inchoate inner substance of his corporation. He could feel its fizzling, sticky taint all the way up into his chest; it went so far in that even his nipples tingled with depraved pleasure. The next demon's ejaculate might leave an unholy taste in the back of his mouth, and the one after that...

But the next demon buried himself in Gabriel's cunt instead.

It occurred to Gabriel, briefly, that he hadn't formed any of _those_ internal organs, either.

Then his thoughts were washed away by a torrent of marvelous filth spurting down his throat in great big gobbets, almost too much for him to swallow. Reflexively, he tried to pull away, but the demon in front grabbed his ears and held fast while the demon in back wouldn't budge.

Someone started a chant, "Drink, drink, drink, drink!" and this time other demons took them up on it, until Gabriel's throat constricted and he began to cough spasmodically. Mercifully—no, not _mercifully_ , obviously not—she yanked his ears to drag him off and finished up on his face.

As the cheering died down again, Gabriel heard splats as the globs of muck slipped off his forehead and cheekbones and fell to the floor. He could have stooped down and licked them up, so utterly gone was he.

Someone must have sensed this impulse, or perhaps Gabriel had been too obvious in letting his tongue loll out, for the next demon to kneel down in front of him was sporting a cunt. For a moment, he thought it was Beelzebub and panicked, but then Beelzebub's voice was in his ear to disabuse him of the notion.

"No, you still haven't earned that privilege," ze said dryly. "But your performance here will be noted on your eternal transcript, so I'd give it a cracking good effort if I were you. If you satisfy her—and she has high standards—you might just earn yourself some points!"

Gabriel gulped nervously. It was going to be fucking tricky, given that the demon behind him was still stretching _his_ pussy so thoroughly. And the chapstick he had used wasn't holding up at all. How could anyone excel under such conditions? Well, the guy in back seemed to be doing just fine at ignoring everything that wasn't Gabriel's cunt...

He could do that too. He was the Archangel _fucking_ Gabriel. He _could_.

But not from this angle.

For the first time today, he took the initiative. Grabbing blindly for the hips of the demon in front, he pulled her along as he executed a maneuver that left him kneeling astride the lap of the demon behind. He didn't bother to stifle his moan as he sank back down on the cock now beneath him. Then he urged the demon in front onto her feet, ignoring her puzzled muttering, and reached down to tug at her ankles until she stood where he wanted. The whole thing had been a bit clumsy, he thought, but her pussy ended up almost perfectly positioned for what he was about to do.

He aimed a winsome grin up at where he thought her eyes or eyespots might be. If she had eyes or eyespots. Some demons didn't.

"Ooo, you think you're _clever_ ," Beelzebub hooted. "Get on with it, you insufferable weasel!"

So he did.

At first he put his hands on the demon's hip bones, still in the mindset that he needed to brace himself for being on the receiving end of nigh-endless debauchery. Quickly, he realized that wouldn't do; his already-tired lips and tongue would be adequate but probably unspectacular on their own. So he lowered his hands to her thighs and gently parted her with his thumbs.

She was already wet. Well, presumably she had been there from the start, watching and listening, even if this was her first turn participating.

In one of their earliest encounters, really not that long ago when he thought about it, Beelzebub had given him instruction in the art of cunnilingus. This instruction had consisted of a practical exam (performed on another demon), physical punishment for each point deducted out of a hundred, and a ruthless classroom lecture on how to do the job properly—in that order. Really, it was just a paper-thin excuse to dress him in a pleated skirt and introduce him to different kinds of paddles—and for the other demon to round out his repertoire of sneers. But that didn't mean Gabriel hadn't picked up a few things. (He had, of course, checked up afterwards to ensure they hadn't been training him wrong on purpose—doubtless the other demon had done the same, although Gabriel had seen no problem with any of _his_ instruction.)

The most important thing, he remembered, was to pay close attention to his partner's responses, verbal or otherwise. This was a tall order, given that the demon between his thighs had begun to roll his hips in a highly distracting manner.

Still, he coped.

When Beelzebub finally pulled the demon off his face, she honest-to-God snarled in fury at being interrupted. By Gabriel's conservative count, she had come on his tongue and fingers at least twice. He knew that whether he had done well or not, Beelzebub's assessment (at least in public) would consist chiefly of scorn; but personally, he was proud of his performance.

Things got a little harder to follow after that.

Having reached the magic number of four, his chaperones attempted to haul Gabriel to his feet. When they found that his legs no longer had the strength to hold him, they peremptorily deposited him in the lap of yet another demon, seated in an office chair, who speared a long, spiralled cock into Gabriel's ass to keep him from wriggling himself to the floor. Of his own accord, Gabriel did manage to spread his legs to accommodate use by the next three (which turned out to be four) demons and their hefty (or tiny but unnervingly abundant) appendages.

Later, Gabriel would wonder about the "amended ergonomics guidelines" and exactly which demons counted towards the four-demon limit per position. The demon he was sitting on apparently didn't, for example. The formula had to be frustratingly complex. But for now, he just squealed embarrassingly and went along with it.

Finally, he found himself stretched across the conference table again. This time, he was on his back, and someone even shoved a mat under the back of his head. It was a far more decent concession to his sheer exhaustion than he ever would have expected. Either that or it was to save on the hassle of keeping him propped up. Of the two possibilities, Gabriel knew which one the demons would have preferred him to assume.

"I told you should have had some water," Beelzebub said mordantly from somewhere near the top of his head. "Now we'll have to stick a needle in you."

"What?" Gabriel moaned. "Don't stick needles in me!" He clutched his forearms feebly to his chest.

Paying no attention whatsoever to the conversation, a demon picked up Gabriel's legs and all but folded him in half, tilting his hips up and sandwiching his arms against his torso. At this point, his hole was so slick and lax that there was barely any friction when the demon penetrated him.

"It's called 'dehydration,' you fucking numpty," said a chaperone, equally heedless to how Gabriel's feet bobbed in the air under each thrust. "Anyway it's us who'll have to write the reports if you pass out, or worse."

"I won't blame you," Gabriel murmured limply. Then, as an afterthought, he added, "You're not supposed to care."

There was a pause, then Beelzebub, unseen and inscrutable, said, "Who says I do?"

It wasn't really an answer; but then again, Gabriel hadn't really been asking a question.

They didn't stick any needles in him after all. Instead, one of the demons fucking him into the table, in the guise of another savage, throat-fucking kiss, forced icy-cold slime down his gullet. He had no idea what the word "sweet" meant, but whatever the goo was it probably qualified. Annoyingly, it did revive him somewhat.

The demon withdrew their gnarly tongue and dismounted him. He had no idea what the tally was. As far as Gabriel could tell, none of the demons had left the conference room, even after they finished their turns. But since about halfway through, the volume of noise in the room had been steadily dropping off. So when Beelzebub unbuckled zir belt, Gabriel heard it very distinctly.

"Holy shit," he gurgled. "Are you really gonna...? In front of...?"

"Don't let it go to your head, you overdressed braggart," the Prince sneered. "Only, watching you get your shiny new cunt fucked sloppy has reminded me that I'm short on my envy quota for the month, and I'll double my score for indulging—triple if I fiddle the numbers right."

A likely excuse, Gabriel thought. The insult sounded perfunctory, too. He couldn't hold that against zir, though: organizing and supervising this had to have been almost as exhausting as being at the center of it. Certainly more aggravating.

Beelzebub deserved a treat for zir troubles, and if that treat had already been despoiled and befouled by who-knew-how-many demons' cocks, tongues, and cilia, it was all the better.

Gabriel felt the conference table lurch slightly as Beelzebub climbed onto it. He grinned, knowing it would make Beelzebub scowl.

He said, "Are you going to—?"

"I'm going to wipe that stupid smile off your stupid face, is what I'm going to do," ze replied easily.

Having the Prince of Flies' balls draped on his chin did, indeed, remove the smile from his face, if only due to their pungent aroma. When Beelzebub adjusted zir position to get a good angle for slurping on his clit, though, Gabriel was happy to swallow down zir prick in return. It was a nice, reasonably-sized penis compared to what he had had rammed down his throat before; either this was a concession to his aching jaw (unlikely) or a teasing denial of his greedy and lustful inclinations.

Beelzebub fucked his face and swirled zir tongue around his hole in a leisurely manner for a few minutes, then scooted up to kneel on his shoulders and settle zir asshole right on Gabriel's nose with seemingly laser-guided precision.

"You there, the squinty runt with the hair," ze called out curtly. "How many cocks have you got on?"

With incongruous diffidence, given that he was attending a _gangbang_ , the demon so designated said, "Erm, just the one, sir?"

"Well, grow another," Beelzebub ordered. "A decent girth, if you please. _His_ arsehole may be a fucked-out hallway for your proverbial hot dog, but _I_ will be needing a proper seeing to."

"Yes, your Lowness!"

The conference table wobbled again; meanwhile, Beelzebub was sliding zir cock out of Gabriel's mouth. Ze made a point of wiping zir ballsack over as much of his cheeks and forehead as ze could. Then ze lifted off and crawled down the table towards Gabriel's feet, just as the other demon (Gabriel could neither confirm nor deny his squint, his stature, or the noteworthiness of his hair) was crawling up.

Beelzebub and the alleged squinty runt settled into a configuration that more or less worked. Gabriel wouldn't have been able to see much even if he hadn't been blindfolded, but he guessed that Beelzebub had manifested a cunt under zir cock in the few seconds it took to traverse the table. Beez was a big fan of fucking while ze got fucked.

Gabriel could imagine what it would feel like to have two cocks of his own with which to invade the Prince's clenching pussy and the squinty runt's asshole, pounding the both of them until they howled and writhed with eager pleasure beneath him. He thought about what it would be like to be in the middle, the rhythm of his hips driven solely by the squinty runt's unbridled lust until he filled up both Gabriel and Beelzebub to the brim with his foul, squelching seed. He imagined... he could imagine a lot, but really, his current position on the bottom was top notch.

Gabriel had expected the demon on top to set the pace, if only at Beelzebub's instruction, but even sandwiched between him and the squinty runt, the Prince still managed to take control. Ze rocked up and down with great enthusiasm, impaling zirself on the runt in one moment and spearing into Gabriel in the next. The runt struggled at first to stay inside both Beelzebub and Gabriel, but finally found a rhythm that had Beelzebub's thighs straining hard against Gabriel's.

"Told you—you'd like this," Beelzebub panted.

"Never said—I wouldn't!" Gabriel retorted.

"Oh, stop bickering," the squinty runt muttered under his breath, but not nearly quietly enough. Either he was angling to get a fresh corporation the hard way or his inhibitions were a package deal, on or off.

Gabriel cringed, anticipating sudden violence far too near to his delicate and already bruised private parts than was comfortable. But, in single-minded pursuit of orgasm, Beelzebub either pretended not to hear or chose to deal with the runt later. Zir hips hardly stuttered.

Gabriel had thought himself spent by now, but the way Beelzebub moved on top of him and inside him as ze came twice, unabashedly vocal, was enough to stir him up for one final shuddering, wrung-out climax. Sensing that Gabriel really was done, the Prince yanked the squinty runt's orgasm—a very copious orgasm at that—out of both his cocks at once with a snap of zir fingers.

"Sir!" the runt whined.

"File a complaint!" Beelzebub said mercilessly.

They climbed off him.

For a while, Gabriel lay there. His body dribbled sticky filth and sweat onto the table and cooled slowly. There were demons bustling around him, stacking up the chairs so that they would be impossible to unstack again and doing whatever it was they did to ensure that the dubious stains would remain on the carpet forever after. Someone pulled Gabriel's blindfold off briefly, but let him pull it back on when he winced at the sudden brightness of the lights. Demons could certainly sympathize with that.

Eventually, someone wrestled him none-too-gently into a bathrobe.

By the time he did take off the blindfold, most of the demons had left. A few were standing around a coffee urn, but shortly they departed as well, though not before grinning lewdly at him.

Beelzebub was still there, dressed in a bathrobe. It was, Gabriel noted, a much plusher bathrobe than the one they'd put on him. And longer.

"So," he said, "what are you going to do to the squinty runt?"

Beelzebub looked puzzled. "Who?"

Gabriel gestured. "The last demon to, um—"

Catching on, Beelzebub leered. "To fuck you silly?"

"To fuck _us_ silly," Gabriel said primly, refusing to be baited.

Beelzebub sipped zir coffee with the contemplative attitude of a true addict. "Probably issue him a commendation for conspicuous acts of effrontery at great personal risk," ze said eventually. "It'll take a few weeks for the paperwork to go through, though."

Gabriel suppressed a grin. It would be an uncomfortable few weeks for the runt, no doubt.


End file.
